“Thank you,” she said, because anything else would have been dangerous.
He shook his head, barely a movement. “I’m only saving my investment.”
She huffed a laugh, not sure if it was one of hilarity or disappointment. The sound seemed to linger, caught between their bodies. His gaze dropped to her lips.
The spell broke not with words, but with the unmistakable sound of Tamsin clearing her throat behind them. The effect was as abrupt as a stone in a river; Alina jerked upright, nearly overbalancing herself again, but Kael kept her steady, seemingly unbothered.
Tamsin watched them with an unreadable expression. She’d moved to the far edge of the clearing, arms folded, but her eyes flicked from Kael’s face to Alina’s, then back again, as if recalibrating something in her private ledger.
“She needs rest,” Tamsin said, the words brisk but not harsh. “You can carry her if you must. Don’t let her faint before we get back.”
Kael’s lips twitched, and he gave Tamsin a dry look that spoke volumes. “I’ll manage.”
Alina was still trying to regain her composure, but it was difficult with Kael’s arm braced so firmly around her. She wanted to protest that she was fine, but her vision was still fraying at the edges, and her knees were untrustworthy. So, she let him help and did not complain when he steadied her as they started the walk back.
They moved in silence. The only sound was the occasional crunch of frost that still lined the shadows and the distant caw of a bird. Alina felt every heartbeat, every brush of Kael’s sleeve againsther arm, every subtle adjustment of his stride to match hers. The closeness was infuriating, intoxicating, and, worst of all, utterly safe.
Behind them, Tamsin trailed at a respectful distance, her gaze unwavering. Alina caught the faintest hint of a smirk at the corner of Tamsin’s mouth, as if she were in on a joke that hadn’t been told yet.
When they reached the shadowed mouth of the Caves, Kael stopped and turned to face her.
“Next time,” he said, voice low, “let the Gift come to you. Don’t chase it down.”
She nodded, dizzy from more than fatigue. “I’ll try.”
He let go, and the cold rushed in where his hands had been.
As Alina stepped inside, she looked back over her shoulder. Kael was still watching her, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Tamsin caught her eye, then gave a short, approving nod, as if to say, you’re learning.
Alina smiled—small, secret, triumphant.
For the rest of the walk, she floated on the memory of Kael’s arms, the warmth of his skin, and the excitement of discovering who she really was.
By the time the lamps were lit and the mess hall had filled again with the noise of bodies and voices, Alina’s limbs had settled into an easy, lingering warmth. The bone-deep ache from earlier was gone, replaced by a fatigue that felt almost luxurious—like the aftermath of a long swim or a day spent in sunlight. She wrappedherself in a woolen blanket, claiming a spot close to the central fire, and watched the living current of the Caves swirl and tighten around her.
This was not the world she’d imagined for herself. It was better and worse in equal measure. She was a foreigner in her own skin, yet every hour she spent here she found herself less interested in the world she’d left behind.
The hall was the same as ever: rough tables, stone floor, the relentless churn of life at the margins. Rebels streamed in, faces ruddy from the cold, voices roughened by days of breathing cave air. There was no separation between work and rest, between business and gossip—the business of revolution was the only business, and even the laughter seemed to circle back to it, again and again.
She watched them: a woman hunched over a sheaf of maps, marking lines in charcoal with quick, decisive strokes; a pair of men, one missing two fingers, the other with a stitched-up ear, bickering over whether to use the northern approach for the next sortie; a knot of children in the far corner, playing a game that involved a lot of shouting and, occasionally, blood. Every one of them looked hard-used, but none of them looked broken. She looked for Finn as she expected him to be in full story-telling mode by now, only to come up short.
Kael was at a side table, back to the wall, talking in low tones with Tamsin. He looked as he always did—alert, contained, an entire country’s worth of trouble sealed under that beautiful, unreadable face. Tamsin was more animated than usual, gesturing with quick, cutting motions, her hair damp from being recently washed. On Kael’s other side sat Elara Moonshadow, the witch with the silver hair and the eyes that never blinked. She watchedKael and Tamsin as if she were watching a duel, her fingers laced together, and her lips set in a perpetual almost-smile.
Alina knew she was being observed, not just by Elara but by most of the room. There was a novelty to her presence, an unease; she was the only one who had not earned her place here by blood or by sacrifice, and she could feel the weight of that judgment every time she reached for her cup or took a bite of bread.
She kept the amulet in her pocket now, not around her neck. She’d spent the afternoon turning it over in her hands, tracing the lines of the silver setting, searching for some sign—any sign—of her mother’s true intentions. Was it protection? Was it control? Or was it just another way to bind her to a future she’d never chosen? The questions burned in her, but answers were in short supply.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Finn until he was almost on top of her.
He burst into the hall like a gust of wind, his cloak spattered with mud, hair standing up in wild clumps, and his face split in a grin that was equal parts triumph and disaster. He carried a battered satchel slung across his chest, and a collection of new bruises in the process of ripening from red to purple.
He spotted Alina and made straight for her, skidding the last few feet on the slick stone and landing beside her with an extravagant bow.
“Your Highness,” he said, in a stage whisper calculated to reach every table in the hall. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”
Alina couldn’t help herself—she laughed, despite the attention it drew. “I’m not sure I want to.”
He dropped onto the bench, thigh pressed to hers and made a show of stealing her cup. He drained it, then grimaced. “Stone-cold. Just my luck.”
